


The Longest Night

by BlixaLooksCarsick



Series: MakotoNiijimaSeries2018 [1]
Category: Megami Tensei, Persona 5, Shin Megami Tensei, persona - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fear, In Game, Makoto's perspective, Sae's palace, makoto niijima week 2018, resolve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 01:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlixaLooksCarsick/pseuds/BlixaLooksCarsick
Summary: November 20. The Phantom Thieves played a dangerous gambit to elude doom and regroup to strike back. Their leader gambled with his life, and his lieutenant was left to hope and despair.





	The Longest Night

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I am aware it was Makoto Niijima last week, and I didn't do any actual entry, for which I am actually ashamed, so better late than never.
> 
> This entry focuses on two days: Fear and Resolve.

Midnight.

November 20th. This was the day Makoto Niijima stood to lose everything. The hours of previous weeks felt like they were dragged into an instant from the moment she heard it from Goro Akechi. Sae Niijima, Makoto’s older sister, was spearheading the investigation to apprehend the Phantom Thieves, a fold of which Makoto herself has integral part of. The zeal in Sae’s efforts was a perversion of her core desires, and so, she would resort to any measure to achieve success, no matter how ruthless or unlawful.

In truth, the distortion in her sister’s heart was no news to her. Even before becoming a Phantom Thief, Makoto suspected something was wrong with Sae. She never used to be like this. Forever devoted indeed to her goals, but never to the point of driving her younger sister to tears when confronted with their late father’s view on justice. This was not the Sae she remembered – the Sae who laughed and sang, the loving sister who was as a stern as she was caring. When gaining access to the MetaNav, the knowledge of her sister having a palace was both a relief and a torment. Sooner or later, she and her comrades may need to steal her Treasure; but in doing so, her sister would be saved from herself.

This awareness was no light weight to carry, but it was something Makoto was willing to face. All of that changed on the outcome of the heist on Kunikazu Okumura’s Palace. It seemed then no different to the previous occasions. Haru’s father would realise the error of his ways and face the responsibility of his deeds as himself, not as a vile, destructive caricature of his will. In time, he would probably rekindle with Haru, and then they could work towards repairing that damaged bond. 

No more. On the disclosure of his own crimes, broadcasted live throughout the city, Kunikazu Okumura died, gushing black bile and blood from every orifice as his brain virtually imploded. A mental shutdown, as the occurrence was coined from previous instances across previous months. The Phantom Thieves, watching this take place, knew it could not be a coincidence. This was linked to the Metaverse they ventured every time they needed to steal a heart’s distorted desire. 

Were they responsible for this?

Would this happen to Sae as well?

1:04 AM

The thought instantly created deep nausea in Makoto. Shortness of breath. A faint, increasingly loss of feeling in her legs. She could have passed out, but she would not allow herself to. Haru was the priority. She remained strong for her friend – she had to. In those troubled days, her friends looked to her for stability, even their leader, her boyfriend, Akira Kurusu. The two remained a rock, but beneath their stoic endurance, something cold ran in their veins.

The feeling remained as the days passed by. Tension within their ranks increased. Haru herself came to admit it before their friends – she considered exposing the Phantom Thieves, and herself for accountability’s sake. In a similar way, Makoto also thought about it – to protect her sister, the only family she still had. 

No, a voice called in her mind. She could not tell whether it sounded like her own or her Persona, Anat’s – which are, in essence, one and the same. 

No, she called again. No. Her sister is not the only family Makoto had. She had Ann, Haru, Yusuke, Morgana, Futaba, Ryuji. She had Akira. Would she stand for betraying them, and conform to the fear that gripped her senses? Would she ever forgive herself?

No. There had to be another way. She had to protect the ones she held dear. All of them.

Soon, a solution reared its head, put forward by an unlikely ally. Goro Akechi, a young ace detective in steadfast pursuit of justice and lawfulness, had figured out the identities of the infamous Phantom Thieves of Hearts, and now all that was left was compromise. Join forces for one last heist - to undo the distortion in Sae’s heart - and then disband. Akira echoed the consent of all when he agreed to the deal, but there was something sombre in his face, something one could easily mistake as displeasure on the deal.

Makoto knew better. The Phantom Thieves reconvened shortly after Akechi left. They all suspected he had something in mind, not for Akechi’s ears – an advantage or a second guessing. His words froze her solid.

“He lies.” Akira spoke coldly. “He has been in the MetaVerse earlier than he claims. I don’t know what motives he may have to hide this from us, but I suspect we get a worse end of this deal than he says.”

Ann, Ryuji and Morgana further illustrated his point, recalling an early chance meeting. It occured during the school trip to the TV studio months ago. Without realising it, Goro Akechi made a crucial mistake, alluding to something he overheard from Morgana that time. It should have been impossible for him to understand the cat-like creature’s words, unless he had been in the MetaVerse before. The affable, selfless façade of the just – all crumbled to dust, and all because of one word: pancakes.

Makoto could laugh, but it was no time for that – they had to plan a way to seize the advantage Akechi unknowingly gave them. They could afford no error: a person of his capabilities could recover from that loss. And if Akira’s suspicion was correct, Akechi represented a very real menace.

The plan was soon concocted and arranged into a process, each step taken with care and subtlety. Yet, after the cautionary early step of bugging Akechi’s phone to track his conversations, his history and agenda became clear. He was the Black Mask, the one who had killed Futaba’s mother, Haru’s father and many other who hindered Masayoshi Shido’s plans. And he would not stop there. After feeding the police squad an anonymous tip, he would isolate the Phantom Thieves from their leader. And then, he would kill him. 

And just like that, in Makoto’s eyes, the plan to save her sister and her comrades had become a high stake gamble. If they pulled it off, her sister would be safe, the Phantom Thieves would continue, Akechi would be fooled, and they would have a chance to strike back at the puppet master behind it all. But if they failed…

1:56 AM

After a gruelling battle, they successfully overpowered Leviathan, the wild avatar of Sae’s Shadow. Rather than needing to steal the treasure, Makoto herself encouraged a change in her sister’s heart by reaching out to the Shadow, and reminding her of the person she used to be, the person Makoto knew she still was. The alert of incoming enemies hastened the Thieves’ escape. But the unprecedented bulk of the menace meant they risked too much if they escaped together. That’s when Joker - when Akira - told them he would stay behind to distract the enemies. 

Makoto knew this was according to plan. Akira was about to surrender himself on a silver plate to bait Akechi into thinking he achieved his plan. He would be taken in for interrogation, and he would then need to convince Sae to trust him and to show Akechi a cell phone, primed to transport him into the MetaVerse without him knowing. Though it an importantly outlined step in the plan, she could not repress a very natural reaction: dread. She knew the risk he was putting himself in – he was figuratively walking into the lion’s den with no lance to arm himself with. 

This could well have been the last night she ever saw him alive. 

Right this very moment, as she turned and tossed in bed, trying to sleep, Akechi could be putting a gun to Akira’s head, not that of the cognitive Akira in the MetaVerse version of the interrogation chamber. She tried, for dear life, not to picture it. Trust him, she said to herself. Makoto knew just how capable Akira is. He had so much faith in her, throughout all they experienced together. Could she not have some faith in him?

He would succeed.

“He will succeed.”

He would live.

“He will live.”

They would strike back

“We will strike back.”

She repeated this impromptu mantra over and over, as if each sound pushed the bad thoughts down. The notion that Sae could be next on Akechi’s sights, being seen as a liability; the notion that the rest of the Phantom Thieves could follow. And the end they fought to avoid, Masayoshi Shido’s ruinous design, would inevitably come to pass. Win all or lose all.

2:20 AM.

“He will succeed. He will live. We will strike back. He will succeed. He will live. We will strike back.” She spoke in the dark ad nauseam. “He will succeed. He will live. We will strike back.” The darkness of the room was oppressing, much like that in the pitch labyrinth in her sister’s Palace. But hours ago, despite her fear of the dark, she proved as capable a lieutenant as always. She allows herself an ironic smile, thinking how she even felt good hours back. “He will succeed. He will live. We will strike back.” 

Had she treated the situation with levity when it came to the battlefield?

Could she maybe have done something better?

Was there something she could have done to protect Sae and Akira?

3:27 AM

Makoto replays the events over and over in her head. The days when her father was there. The start of her education at Shujin. Aikido tournaments. Sae surprising her with a huge Buchimaru plush. Test results. Pride. Loss. The first notion of what impotence truly was. Necessary introspection. Re-evaluation of her ways. A pair of eyes like a lost puppy’s, bespectacled, looking at her in the library. A motorcycle magazine. Jogging. A friend getting carsick. Kamoshida, Kobayakawa, Kaneshiro. A peculiar smile that did not quite fit the boy’s features. Power. Protection. Resolve. The façade of the Police Academy. A sunset in Hawaii. Her first kiss. Her second, her third, her fourth, her fifth. A mutual spontaneous confession. A sudden, sense of intimacy and closeness. The notion of living the future tense. 

In the silence, the events lost all order in the sequence.

Makoto was tired, as tired as she had ever been, but the countless hours to this night did not give her the slightest respite. She took her phone from her desk and opened the Phantom Thieves’ chatroom. Everybody was online. Morgana had no phone of his own, but she guessed he was awake too. If all goes successfully, Sae would probably get in touch with them. If all goes successfully…

She stared at the chatroom. Last message was sent around noon of the previous day. It was Akira.

“Let’s do this.” It read.

The lieutenant, strategist and carer in Makoto urged her to message the group, to offer support and encouragement during this uncertain hour. But in all sincerity, she needed that herself. She did not want to pressure others, as vulnerable as she, to provide something she cannot give herself at the moment. All they had was the quiet certainty that they had each other’s backs. Could that suffice?

A quiet certainty…

“Please.” Makoto spoke out in the darkness of her bedroom. She felt the anguish push the tears out. “Someone tell me he’s okay.” In one impulse, she got out of bed and went towards a corner in the room, towards a familiar shape that offered light and warmth no matter how dark. That enormous Buchi-kun her sister gave to her. The strength in her legs gave way as she reached it, and as gravity did its work, her face sunk into the panda’s head, stifling her cry.

“Please don’t be dead, Akira. Please don’t leave me too.”

4:00 AM

Makoto was back in bed, her panda friend was next to her in lieu of a pillow. And Akira’s face was an ink-black blotch in her thoughts. She could not see him, nor could she reach and aid him. On the other hand, Akechi’s face was a clear image, one she could focus all of her growing anger towards. She hated him, regardless of the trauma that led him to his present. She hated him for what he did to Futaba and Haru, for what he did to endanger the citizenship of Tokyo. For what he intended to do to Akira. 

For what he may already have done to him.

No, that voice called again. Anat, Makoto, both. Just one simple no. It was too easy to focus on anger and animosity. A future must not be conceived in terms of comeuppance, lest she lose sight of the convictions that led her to this moment, to risk it all. 

Tired out of her wits, Makoto thought of one thing. A simple item remaining in her computer’s browser from an afternoon Akira spent with her in her room. She never let electronics run overnight, but the silence only harboured troubled thinking. She needed something to quell the silence, to quell the thoughts, something that reminded her of him. A link. A song.

She opened Squatify and looked through the search history in search for a song she could not identify by title. She liked it when Akira found it and pressed play. The first few seconds made her lift her eyes off the book she was reading, turning to Akira who looked at her with a carefree half-smile. It was wordless, melancholic yet sweet, very much like her, like him, like the two of them together. Shortly after finding the tracks played two months ago, she recognised it the song’s name from how she did not recognise it.

Speaker volume at a hundred per cent. Set on repeat. 

“plswaveback”

Makoto walked back to her big Buchimaru-kun and laid her head on it. She imagined the dawn, the colours breaking awake in the day after this long night. Her eyes were dry out of tears. Just as well – the time passed for grief. The day ahead required her to be stronger than she ever was, regardless of the outcome of last night’s events. If Akira was dead, she would mourn him – forever, she knew. But even without him, she had to protect the rest: her sister and her thieves. She would not fail them, no matter what. 

And if Akira made it alive, as she desperately hoped and wanted, it would be the same. Their fight was not over. This will not be vengeance. This will be justice – true justice.

Still, from a corner in her mind, as her inner self danced along to the song, she imagined him somewhere in the distance, somewhere within reach. Makoto waved.

“Please wave back, Akira.”

She fell asleep a few minutes later, waking up to a text message from her sister. The song still played from her laptop on her desk. 

“Long night. Lots of explaining. All be in LeBlanc at seven evening. Akira is ok. People watching. Act accordingly.”

Makoto allowed herself a sigh of relief. Akira was alive. They could continue their fight. And then, like sudden thunder, she leapt off her bed and hugged her Buchi-kun, dancing and spinning about her room. How long has it been since she reacted like this? Perhaps the days before she received her mother’s hairband from her father. She was so little then. Even though she felt somewhat immature, she guessed she could take in the joy a day arriving after a long, terrible night – just like she would when she was a child. Some of that, she presumed. was the joy of knowing her sister was safe also, and that - by extension - they emerged victorious in their gamble.

Two minutes later, she decided to continue her parade some other time, she had to contact the rest of the thieves. The news of Joker’s apprehension and suicide would emerge soon, and the remaining Thieves would need to play along to the falsehood’s fiddle for a few hours until Joker arrived. They would not instantly recognise him beneath the gashes and the bruises, much to a Queen’s anger, but the glint in his eye – that was still there, alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope it was to your enjoyment. 
> 
> I gotta say, I really love this series, this fanbase (when it's not toxic af) and how wholesome it can get. Our love for the Queen reaches deep, I reckon. And as an aside, I really hope they don't make her the traitor in the animation just for the sake of a twist. It's something I needed to get off my chest.
> 
> Anyway, do stick around, I'll continue with the main series shorly.
> 
> Also, here is the song I mention in this little story. It's lovely.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TyXoFG-HPQs


End file.
